


Those Halcyon Days

by Shadaras



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/M, Foreplay, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Teasing, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, you probably don't need canon knowledge to read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 14:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18317456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/Shadaras
Summary: After the Battle of Tiamat, Yang looks for some well-deserved rest and relaxation in the arms of his good friends and lovers.





	Those Halcyon Days

“Celebrate coming home safe,” Dusty had said, after the disaster at Tiamat, like it was a perfectly reasonable thing. And Yang supposed it was, though he doubted his friend would have guessed this outcome—Dusty had been implying he wanted to go out for drinks. Yang had just wanted to sleep.

So he’d gone home, intending to do just that, much to Dusty’s disappointment. But Jean Robert had called, and Jessica had gotten Julian on board somehow (Yang suspected it wasn’t that hard; the boy loved it when someone else dragged Yang out of the house), and so Yang was waiting for Jean Robert to come pick him up. And he was wearing clothes that Julian thought were nice, and seeing as Julian put more thought into his wardrobe in five minutes than Yang usually did in five days, he supposed he’d take it. Even if it was neither as comfortable as his sweaters nor as utilitarian as his uniform.

They were just going out for a show. There really wasn’t any reason to dress up this much. He’d told them all that, but Jessica had insisted, and well—once Jessica insisted, there really wasn’t anything for it. Yang smiled, slight but genuine. He liked that about her. She had more of a spine than most of the admirals, and more sense to use it with. His smile faded, just as quick as it had come. Whatever idiocy the admiralty was coming up with now, he didn’t want anything to do with it.

Not that he had much choice in the matter.

The doorbell chimed, and Yang stood up to answer it—before Julian, for once. 

Jean Robert and Jessica both stood there, blond and joyful and dressed in green and white. Yang smiled at them, and followed them out to the car, letting their chatter wash over him and responding, absently, when it was directed specifically enough at him to grab his attention.

Approximately halfway into town proper, Jessica said, abruptly, “This is ridiculous. Jean Robert, let’s head back to my place.”

“Jess—”

“Yang is being quiet even for him.”

Yang raised his head, at that. Jessica’s eyes met his, green emboldened by her dress. He let his lips drift up slightly and tilted his head; a concession.

Jean Robert sighed, but he glanced back too, his face soft in concern. Whatever he saw there—exhaustion, likely, emotional and physical both—it was enough for him to enter new coordinates into the car’s systems. It beeped acknowledgement, and Yang leaned back, resting his head on the seat. “You don’t need to do this,” he said, now that they already were. It was the form of the thing, not a real protest, and they all knew it.

Yet they still went through the motions. “Don’t be silly. We don’t want you to overwork yourself, even if its recreational.”

“She’s right,” Jean Robert added. He turned, a rustle of clothing, and reached one hand back to place it on Yang’s knee. “Besides, we can have just as good a time in a quiet apartment.”

Yang stretched out his leg until his foot knocked against someone’s. Jessica’s, probably. “Do you have any booze that isn’t shitty beer?” he asked, not bothering to open his eyes, even as Jessica moved her ankle to rest on top of his.

“Well. No.”

Jessica laughed. “Just pretend we’re back in your Academy days,” she suggested. “No real cares, and just enough free time to get into trouble.”

“You didn’t need much for that,” Yang said, letting a lazy smile finally spread across his face. Jean Robert squeezed his knee and released it, turning forward again as the car slowed.

Jessica’s place wasn’t large—teaching music, even at university level, wasn’t seen as important in this era—but it was private. Most importantly, as far as Yang was concerned, neither his nor Jean Robert’s superiors could easily get ahold of them there. Yang trailed in Jessica’s wake, slouching as if it really were a normal evening and they’d just come back from dinner instead of cancelling plans to see a show. He didn’t even remember what show it had been; he trusted Jessica’s taste, and he had, if he were being honest with himself, expected this.

Sometimes, when it was bad, this was the only thing they could do for each other.

Jean Robert shut the door behind him, and Yang unbuttoned his suit jacket and left it hanging on the back of the armchair. “So,” he said, letting his body unfold to stand almost, but not quite, at attention. “Where do you want to begin?”

“Make tea,” Jessica said. She curled herself into a corner of the couch, where Yang knew she could see everything in the kitchenette. “Jean Robert, come here. Yang will bring us tea when he’s done making it to his satisfaction.”

“Just because _some_ people don’t have standards.” Yang shook his head. As he crossed Jean Robert’s path, his friend reached out to leave a lingering touch along his shoulders, one that only dropped away because arms were only so long. Yang shivered, goosebumps rising on his skin, and ran water into the kettle. _Proprietary_ was the word, and here it was his body, not his mind, that was being laid claim to. Much more pleasant, especially when he liked the man—the _people_ —who were claiming it.

As the kettle began boiling, he turned back, leaning against the countertop. Jean Robert sat on the floor in front of Jessica, eyes closed, letting her run fingers through his close-cut blond hair. Jessica met Yang’s eyes, and smiled; a challenge in the way it barely reached her eyes. Her free hand beckoned him, a direct contradiction of her request (that wasn’t really a request) that he make and bring tea, and Yang hesitated, heart beginning to quicken.

_The thing about traps,_ he thought, in the still-running tactical part of his mind, _is that you can only prevent them from being effective if you notice them ahead of time._

Jessica’s smile widened. Her hand stilled on Jean Robert’s head, and he mumbled some kind of protest that Yang couldn’t hear over his own heart. The whistle of the tea kettle broke his indecisive tableau (because this didn’t matter; lives weren’t at stake to force an accounting of the least-awful choice he could make), proclaiming the water boiled. Automatically, because he was here, and he had been told to, and he really _did_ want tea, Yang went to the cabinets and retrieved three cups and a teapot. He placed loose tea in the strainer (chamomile; almost entirely plain, but suitable to everyone’s tastes) and poured the kettle’s water in.

He turned back to find that Jean Robert and Jessica were both on the couch now, and that Jean Robert’s shirt had been unbuttoned. Yang swallowed, both an instinctive quiet wish that he looked like that, and because Jean Robert was a beautiful man who he very badly wanted to be touching now. But he had been asked to serve tea, and so he carried over the teapot and the cups, and placed both on the low table, and then, because there was no space on the couch for him the way Jessica was lounging, knelt at its side.

“Oh, very good.” Jessica beckoned him again, and this time Yang came, letting her pull him up between the green-and-gilt pair of them; a night-blue shadow between two suns. She laid her legs across his lap, and he began tracing, ever so lightly, the arcs of solar systems across her skin. Jessica sighed in pleasure, but didn’t ask for anything more; her eyes just flickered past him, and Yang didn’t question what she was asking. That wasn’t important yet.

Jean Robert leaned forward to place a hand on the back of Yang’s neck. Yang’s eyes fell closed, and his hands stilled, tensing slightly over Jessica’s soft legs. Jean Robert’s hands were strong and callused and his touch was so casual, as if this were something they did every day, not perhaps thrice a year.

“Do you want to wait until after tea?” Jean Robert asked, conversationally, like nothing more important than when to go for a stroll in the park was under discussion.

Yang reminded himself that _he_ was the one being asked this question—and also that he didn’t need to account for hundreds of thousands of lives, or even just three generals, if he wanted to wait until after tea. He wanted to focus on the slow circles Jean Robert was rubbing into his neck, simple and uncomplicated (hedonistic pleasure: someday, perhaps, he could just get a massage; it wouldn’t be the same, but perhaps it would be... something), but he still had to respond or else he wouldn’t get what he didn’t want to admit he wanted.

“No,” he whispered, letting his eyes blink open. “I— now is good.”

“We’d been hoping you’d think that,” Jessica said. She shifted, pushing herself up until she sat on Yang’s lap. He moved his hands to rest, loose, on her waist, and leaned forward to kiss her shoulder. She smelled like rosin and old wood; smells he’d always loved, but appreciated all the more on her. Jessica kissed his forehead in return. “Here, or in the bedroom?”

“Either,” Yang said, because no matter how much they wanted to take his desires into account, part of the point was that he didn’t _need_ to choose, if he didn’t want to.

“Here,” Jean Robert said decisively. His hand slid around Yang’s neck, until it reached the buttons of his collar. “I have some ideas for you.”

Yang kept his eyes fixed on Jessica’s face as Jean Robert slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Jessica watched, smile growing, as more and more of Yang was revealed: throat, collarbones, undershirt over small breasts that hid so nicely beneath thick uniforms. His nipples were already erect, just from the force of Jessica’s gaze and the simple fact of what they were doing.

Jean Robert gently pulled at the sleeves of Yang’s shirt, and Yang leaned forward and allowed Jean Robert to guide his arms behind him. His breath caught and he felt everything tighten; Jean Robert hadn’t unbuttoned the cuffs, and his hands were trapped by them, especially as Jean Robert twisted his shirt into a makeshift knot. From Jean Robert’s appreciative hum as Yang straightened, arched his back a little to push out his chest and relieve some of the pressure on his shoulders, that had been very intentional.

Jessica turned so that instead of sitting across Yang’s lap, facing Jean Robert, she was straddling him. “Jean Robert, be a dear and help me remove this dress. You boys are having all the fun right now.”

“Of course,” Jean Robert murmured.

As he stood, Jessica reached forward and slid both her hands up Yang’s stomach, pulling up the undershirt as she went. Her hands slowly curled around his breasts, and Yang let out a soft moan at the feeling of her fingers on his nipples—then gasped and outright whined as she squeezed.

“Still good,” he said, in answer to the question Jessica always asked next.

She leaned her weight against him and pressed him against the back of the couch, nails just pricking into the soft skin of his breasts. Yang smiled up at Jessica, breath coming out in panting gasps. His shoulders protested, but Yang didn’t think they’d stay here long enough for it to escalate to real pain. Instead, he focused on the deep pressure against his chest, the subtle movements against his nipples, and let himself sink into sensation. He felt his crotch ache, warm, dampen; his chest was tight and he was just waiting for—

The soft sound of Jessica’s dress being pulled up, and Jessica rocked back, her hands disappearing from his skin, and Yang whined as the pressure released, leaving behind an emptiness that he hadn’t even realised he’d been feeling. “Please,” he said, eyes opening again to see beautiful pale skin in front of him. He leaned forward, and his undershirt almost, but didn’t quite, slip back over his breasts, and he was glad for that as he pressed kisses along Jessica’s collarbones, feeling his nipples rub against the bottom of her lace-textured bra. “I— you can give me more.”

“We will,” Jean Robert said. He reached over Jessica’s shoulder, mussed up Yang’s hair. Yang blinked up at him, at the way he leaned in to capture Jessica’s mouth in a deep kiss. He could feel her muscles slacken, hear the cut-off groan rising in her throat. Jean Robert’s hand clasped down on Yang’s hair, and the two of them gasped at almost the same time; Yang caught a glimpse of teeth, Jessica’s on Jean Robert’s lips, before he pressed his face into Jessica’s shoulder and began sucking (gently, carefully; can’t be caught leaving too obvious a mark) on her collarbone, just next to the strap of her bra.

Jessica’s arm curved around Yang, pulling him close. He sighed against her skin, nuzzling against her neck, and was rewarded with her nails skimming along his spine. They stopped between his shoulders, when they caught on his undershirt. Jessica pulled away from Jean Robert, whose hand loosened on Yang’s hair and slipped into caressing his cheek instead.

“Let’s give you your arms back,” Jessica murmured. She leaned to the side, and Yang followed, letting Jessica pull him down on top of her, face cradled against her neck and her legs locked around his. Yang breathed in, feeling the way Jessica’s breasts pressed against his collarbones, her hips rocked, ever so subtly, against his stomach.

Behind him, he could hear Jean Robert moving. From the rustle of cloth, the distinct click of metal, and the soft thump, he’d removed all his clothing. Yang groaned a little and pushed closer to Jessica, who laughed and ran her hands along his back, letting them linger at the edges of his skin, brushing his belt and letting his undershirt pull tight against his chest.

The couch shifted as Jean Robert settled a knee alongside their legs, anchoring himself next to their hips. Yang arched into the stroke of Jean Robert’s hands along his back, and then waited, breath caught and body tingling, for his steady fingers to undo the knotted shirt.

The knot loosened, but before Yang could pull his arms back, Jean Robert’s hands wrapped around his wrists. “Wait,” Jean Robert said quietly, and Yang nodded against Jessica’s neck. The weight of Jean Robert’s hands felt good; he could relax into his friend’s grip, and let himself fit closer to Jessica as his lovers held silent conference around him.

He focused on the sound of Jessica’s heart and the way his shoulders ached tighter and looser with his breath, and he waited.

Jessica nodded, hair and cheek soft against his forehead. Jean Robert released his hands, but Yang held them against the small of his back, laying at attention until—

“Up now,” Jean Robert said. “You may use your arms.”

Yang carefully pulled his arms around until he could plant his hands just on the edge of the couch, slipping them under Jessica’s arms. Then, because he had worked hard to be able to do this at all, he pushed himself straight up into a push-up he held for a heartbeat, watching Jessica’s lips curve in appreciation, before swinging his legs off to take his weight from his tingly arms.

He knelt at the table and waited, watching steam slowly coil towards the ceiling from the teapot. Jean Robert was lounging on the other side, just as naked as Yang had expected, but Jessica was still on the couch.

Jessica’s legs brushed his back, and her feet came to rest just behind him. “Raise your arms.”

Yang did, quietly, letting himself settle against her as she pulled his undershirt off. Jean Robert’s eyes softened, and Yang felt his nipples tighten again at his friend’s—his lover’s—steady gaze. And at the way he was displaying himself: Weight on one arm, the opposite leg thrown out to create a beautiful line from his head to his toes, free arm draped across his stomach and idly touching his cock.

Jean Robert clearly noticed where he was looking, too, because he drew that hand slowly back from his cock to trail up along his chest, dark blond hair showing the path of his fingers until he stopped to circle around his nipples once. Then, he brought his fingers to his mouth and made a show of licking just their tips, tongue slowly dragging across them before he let his hand fall and pushed himself into kneeling with a smirk.

Yang only realised how still he’d been holding himself, watching Jean Robert, when Jessica shifted behind him and smoothly knelt beside him. “Enough, dear,” she said, placing her hand on Yang’s still-covered thigh. “You’ve gotten him all worked up.”

Jean Robert laughed, easy and comfortable and confident in his body and the play of light across his throat.

Jessica’s fingers tightened, pinching Yang’s leg, and he tore his eyes away to look at her, startled. Jessica met his eyes, smiling, and told him— _ordered_ him: “Strip.”

He met her eyes: blue, dancing-serious in the way he only ever saw here. There was no room for disobedience, because no action could run counter to her absolute expectation that he would do as she said, right this moment.

Yang stood up.

He kept his eyes on Jessica’s, though he could see Jean Robert in the periphery of his vision (his hand lazily moving on his cock, head tilted back in appreciation). For a moment, he stood still, watching them trace the lines of his body. Then, with a smile, he bent over, let them see his flexibility and his balance and his hair falling into his face as he pulled off his socks, one at a time, and placed them neatly at his side.

He didn’t pay attention to their eyes as he unbuckled his belt, paid even less as he pushed his trousers and boxers down together in one quick motion. Yang stepped out of them and laid his clothing to the side where it was less likely to get wrinkled, and only then did he stand up and come to parade rest, the most unnatural position in formal situations but astoundingly comfortable when he was only presenting himself for truly appreciative eyes.

“Oh, aren’t _you_ lovely,” Jessica murmured. Sometime while he’d been removing his pants, she’d taken off her bra, and Yang found himself fixing on her nipples, dusky rose against her soft pale skin. In the periphery of his vision, Yang saw Jean Robert standing up, smooth and easy, but Jessica was gesturing him forward and that was more immediately compelling.

Yang took a step towards Jessica, and that brought him close enough for her to reach a hand around his thigh and pull him closer, until he stood bare inches from where she knelt.

“Lovely,” Jessica said again, but this time Yang could feel her breath warm against his hip. One of her hands was wrapped around his hips, hand pressing against the small of his back to keep him in place. The other traced its way up the insides of his thighs, and Yang trembled at Jessica’s touch, especially when she placed her mouth on the ridge of his hip. Her tongue circled for a heartbeat, two—and then she bit down.

Yang gasped, and his stance widened, one hand reaching forward to brace him on Jessica’s shoulders. He rocked back again, unsteady with how Jessica sucked on his hip and her fingers danced at the edge of his crotch, teasing him by pulling slightly at the hair there but never moving closer. He felt open, rootless. Before he lost his balance entirely, Jean Robert stepped behind him, warm and solid and steadying.

“We’ve got you,” Jean Robert said, right by his ear.

Yang nodded acknowledgement, and then Jean Robert bit his neck just below his ear and Yang couldn’t think of anything but the way lightning raced between his lover’s mouths. Hands, warm and solid, gripped his hips and held him in place. Jean Robert’s cock pressed against his ass, and Yang registered Jessica’s hand moving from the small of his back, but didn’t process where it was instead until Jean Robert groaned into his shoulder and pressed into him, rutting into Jessica’s hand and Yang’s back.

Jessica’s mouth meandered down his hip, sharp teeth alternating with soft tongue until she reached his cock. Yang hissed, hips thrusting forward against her tongue. Jean Robert’s hands tightened, and the pain drove into his cunt, sparkling against the torturous softness of Jessica’s mouth, so warm and wet and painstakingly gentle.

“Please,” Yang said, or tried to say, somewhere in the moans and gasps Jessica drew from him.

“Please what?” Jean Robert murmured, lips brushing his ear.

Yang shivered, turning blindly towards Jean Robert’s mouth. Stubble scraped against his cheek, and then Jean Robert’s mouth was on his. Jean Robert didn’t kiss with teeth and tongue wielded as weapons, the way Jessica did. Jean Robert sucked on his lips, lapped and soothed with his tongue, matched move for move Jessica’s tongue on his dick until Yang felt like he was nothing more than senses strung out between two nodes waiting for _more_.

“Please,” he said again, as Jean Robert’s mouth pulled off for a moment. “Harder.”

Jessica nodded, hair whispering against his thigh, and pulled back. Yang whined, almost missing it when she said, “Do you want to be fucked?”

“Oh,” Yang managed, before words failed him. He nodded, and Jean Robert rocked against him, cock sliding against his cunt.

Jessica stood up and kissed him, tongue thrusting into his mouth. He tasted himself on her and moaned, grasping at her in an effort to keep himself mostly upright.

She pulled away, and said, with a very steady voice, “Bring him to bed, Jean Robert.”

Before Yang could protest that he could definitely walk, Jean Robert scooped him up, and Yang was left clinging to his shoulders, face buried in Jean Robert’s neck. The kiss Jean Robert placed on his forehead before he started walking just made Yang hold tighter.

Jean Robert didn’t throw him onto the bed. 

Jean Robert placed Yang on the bed gently, unfolding him and laying him out so that all his limbs were fully extended, leaving him bare and exposed. Yang opened his eyes just enough to see Jessica putting a condom on Jean Robert’s dick, and then closed them again at Jean Robert’s cut-off gasp from her kiss.

The bed creaked as Jessica climbed on. Yang tracked her presence as she moved up by his head, and let her move him until his head was cradled in her lap. Then she reached down and took hold of his hands and brought them to her hips. “Keep them there, dear,” she said, stroking his cheek.

“Yes, ma’am.” Yang smiled up at her and turned his head to kiss her hand.

Jessica laughed, and Jean Robert joined them on the bed. It dipped more under his weight, especially because—and Yang checked, eyes opening—he was staying on his knees. His hands stroked up Yang’s legs, pushing them further apart as he moved closer and closer to Yang’s crotch.

Gently, almost reverently, Jean Robert rested his hands on Yang’s inner thighs, brushing little circles that left whispering ripples of sensation fluttering across his skin. Each arc brought those callused fingers closer to his cunt, his cock, and Yang pressed his hips up, panting as he let himself go into pure sensation and desire.

Jean Robert’s finger slipped into his cunt, thumb resting against his cock. Yang thrust towards the pressure, but Jean Robert’s other hand clamped down on his hip, keeping him still. When Yang opened his mouth to complain, Jessica’s fingers found their way in, and Yang closed his lips around them instead, tongue flicking around her fingertips.

That must have been some kind of signal, because then Jean Robert’s fingers began to move.

Yang arched into the rough fullness as Jean Robert added fingers to his cunt without warning or any more preparation than the wetness that had been filling Yang for as long as he could conceive of. Yang heard himself, distantly, whining and moaning around Jessica’s fingers. Jean Robert’s knees forced his even further apart, and then—finally—Jean Robert’s thumb began to move, rubbing Yang’s cock as his fingers fucked Yang’s cunt.

Jessica’s other hand pinched his nipples, and Yang opened his mouth, letting her fingers slide from it as he shook, convulsing over both his lovers’ laps. Jean Robert didn’t slow his hand as Yang’s cunt tensed and his cock felt oversensitive, and the sensation arced and cascaded across Yang until there was nothing else he could attend to but the pure present moment filled with pleasure and the electricity of his nerves afire.

When Jean Robert finally slowed, then stopped, Yang lay still, panting. Jessica pulled his fingers off her hips, murmuring, “You’ve been so good, Yang. You did just what we asked, and you looked so beautiful when you came. I’m so proud of you.”

Yang smiled, and turned onto his side, just a little, so that he could nuzzle against her knees.

Jean Robert pulled his fingers out of Yang and helped move his legs so that they were closed once more. “Take some time and rest,” he said, stroking Yang’s back with his clean hand. “We’ll be here, right beside you.”

“Good,” Yang said, letting his eyes fall closed. They were quiet, but he could still hear them kissing, still make out exactly when Jessica placed herself on Jean Robert’s cock. The most lovely sounds, he thought, body buzzing and mind drifting. The sounds of people consumed in pleasure.

Yang breathed deeply, slowly, and let himself listen to his lovers fuck next to him, focusing on nothing more than this minute, this hour, this day—this one beautiful sliver of joy in the midst of war.


End file.
